Sisa Masa

Sisa Masa reflects on home as a site where aging, loss, and inheritance converge, blurring memory and space. It traces how care settles into rooms, objects, and the people who hold us, asking how we release what we love while honoring its imprint.

Sisa Masa, which means what’s left of time in Indonesian, is a photographic meditation on life’s cycles — how we first come into the world, what we are entrusted with, and what we are ultimately asked to surrender. Rooted in family lineage, the work is an examination of how love feeds us, even as it ushers us toward the inevitability of change.

The images weave in and out of domestic interiors: a cleaver worn from preparing countless family meals, sunlight settling on a kitchen table, a mirror that has watched my family shift and remake itself over the years. These intimate traces speak to what carries on, shaped not by discovery but by the steady act of living. Culture is sustained here in the smallest gestures, a meal prepared, a room tended, woven into the pulse of everyday life.

Yet time does not wait. Peeling paint, softened furniture, and the slow bend of aging hands reveal the gradual unraveling of what once felt unwavering. The home becomes a vessel of longing, holding what we love even as it slips beyond our grasp, a place where devotion and loss coexist, and where I return knowing everything is changing, even in its familiarity.

Sisa Masa asks not where I come from, but how to navigate the passage of time, how to bear the melancholy of watching permanence give way to impermanence. The work reflects on how life continues even as it transforms, and bears witness to how the past hums beneath the surface of the present, tracing the ordinary in an attempt to hold what is already disappearing, honoring the beauty that survives in what time leaves behind.